


the day's as small as the window

by Eastling (Annwyd)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: #BuckyNat Week, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3581814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annwyd/pseuds/Eastling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've shared some things already, it's true, but they've never woken up in each other's arms before. The morning awaits them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the day's as small as the window

When the light of dawn filtering through the windows began to draw him out of sleep, he was dreaming of music. It was a slow and gentle song with a soft but steady beat, something very sweet and melodic, but he couldn't place it at all.

Really, it was an odd thing for him to be dreaming of. Bucky Barnes wasn't really into music. And the bedroom was quiet, so where had it come from?

There was a weight on his chest, a heavy warmth. That wasn't normal. He woke up, ordinarily, with only the blankets clinging to him—

He let his eyelids flutter open.

She was draped over his right shoulder, her cheek nestled against his throat, her hair spilling over his collarbone, her breasts against his side, one arm flung out over his chest. Her heartbeat hummed against his body; her breathing sounded slow and even in his ear. That was it. That was the song he'd heard in his dreams.

"Natalia," he said.

For a moment, her breath came out as a long pleased sigh, but she kept sleeping atop him.

He remembered the night before, then. How she'd pretended to fall asleep at his side on the couch after he turned off the television, and he'd known she was pretending, but he'd carried her to bed anyway, and she'd pulled him down for a kiss...

Their very plain clothes lay in a heap next to the bed. No costumes had been flung across the room last night.

Bucky glanced at the digital readout of the clock next to the bed. **6:57** glowed back at him.

He kissed the top of Natasha's head and closed his eyes again.

* * *

He dozed, then, sleeping as lightly as he would have on a battlefield, but it was different. The warm gold of the light coming in through the window crept into his brain and filled up all the cracks that usually brimmed with worries and regrets. Her breath beneath his chin kept it there and kept out the bad things as well. She guarded him while sleeping on the job.

He opened his eyes again, and this time the clock read **7:43**.

"Natalia," he said again. "It's quarter to eight."

She made a bit more of a noise this time. "Mmph." It wasn't much more, though.

"I need to make breakfast," he said. Something in the center of his chest twisted up into a bright hot knot of feelings at the thought of making breakfast for two people.

She didn't open her eyes, but she mumbled something under her breath.

"What?" He ducked his head a little closer to her to listen.

Her words were just barely audible this time. "Don't even think of getting up."

He leaned back against the pillow and reconsidered his plans. "Oh. Okay."

Natasha snuggled more closely against him and slept on.

* * *

He didn't exactly dream; he was mostly awake at this point. But he let images wander through his head unchecked as he lay there beneath her with his eyes closed and his body warmed by her. For once, they were nice images. In the darkness behind his eyelids, her breath became leaves rustling overhead while early summer sunlight filtered through them. Her heartbeat became the footsteps of a friend walking at his side.

She stirred on top of him now and then. Her hand trailed a little down his chest, or she nuzzled against his neck. When that happened, flowers bloomed in the darkness inside his head with petals as red as her hair.

He finally opened his eyes again. By now, the clock was telling him **9:14**.

"Natalia," he said once more.

Her eyelids fluttered. He could tell instantly by the way her posture upon him shifted that she was more or less awake now. Her words were coherent enough, too. "What did I tell you about getting up, James?"

"I remember," he said. "It was something like 'don't do it,' I think."

"You're good," she said.

"How long does that last, though? Because—"

"Forever," she said as she opened her eyes. They were still hazy with sleep. He wondered if she'd been seeing the same sweet dreams he had. "I'm going to lie here on top of you the whole day, and probably tomorrow too."

"I have to use the bathroom," he said.

"Too bad," she said, and she closed her eyes again.

He relaxed against the pillow for a moment longer. Then he reached out with his left hand and slowly traced his fingers down her spine.

"Mmph," she said again, and she burrowed into his right side some more. "Stop. It's cold."

"Okay," he said. He reached down and grabbed her ass instead.

Faster than the heartbeat he'd been dreaming of, she rolled off of him, grabbed a pillow, and smacked him in the face with it.

He laughed. "Natalia—"

She hit him with the pillow again.

Just as fast as her, he grabbed the pillow out of her hands, tossed it aside, took hold of her by the shoulders, and pushed her down to the bed beneath him.

"You're terrible," she said, grinning up at him, her eyes bright. The sleep had cleared from them, but he still thought of summer and flowers when he saw their sparkle.

"You just said I was good," he said.

"I'm allowed to change my mind." She didn't stop smiling, though.

He kissed her. He kissed her mouth, and the line of her jaw, and the soft skin beneath her chin; her neck and her shoulders, the top of her breasts. She rested a hand in his hair, and he stayed there for a moment, warm against her.

Finally, he pulled himself away from her and sat up. "Sorry," he said, "but I wasn't kidding. I've really got to go."

She blinked. "Go where?"

He rolled his eyes. "The _bathroom_ , Nat."

She sat up too. Her hair fell messily around her face. "All right," she said.

He studied her for a few seconds. "You're thinking of sneaking up on me in the shower."

"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe I'll just flush the toilet while you're in there."

He grabbed the discarded pillow and whacked her with it. Or he tried to, anyway, but she caught it. And she looked at him over the top of it with a thoughtful gaze. "What is it?" he asked.

"I forgot," she said.

"You forgot what?"

"To say good morning," she said.

He smiled. "It's all right," he said. "It's a good morning anyway."


End file.
